


Quid Pro Quo?

by kaiz



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-19
Updated: 1999-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiz/pseuds/kaiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra's evening goes from bad, to worse, to bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid Pro Quo?

Tonight, one would have been enough. More than enough.

The gangly, spiky-haired blond with the saber looked about twenty-five and was probably no more than a century or two. He was fast and well-trained, but his mind would have been trivial to manipulate, had he possessed the imagination of a carp. Regardless, alone he would have presented a challenge, but not likely a lethal one; she had several thousand years experience on him after all.

His companion however, was a vastly different matter. Tall and broad, he carried his long-handled battle axe with assurance and spoke Imperial Latin with a hard-edged precision that could not be feigned. He had age, size, and obvious skill on his side -- the old ones were always difficult to bespell.

And unfortunately, they were also old -- friends. If one's definition stretched to include murderous, rapacious ex-husbands. Not one of her more enlightened choices of spouse over the millennia, although it had been politically expedient at the time. The women of a captured village usually had the choice of slavery or death. But her beauty and immortality had caught his eye (men, so easy!) and in exchange for the freedom of her adopted home, she had consented to be his wife. For a time. He had, at least, bathed frequently and been somewhat skilled in bed.

Had they met alone tonight, she might have run; Gaius wasn't known for his generosity or mercy to those who'd thwarted him, no matter how many centuries had passed. A fact to which thousands of corpses across northern Europe could attest, were they able to speak from their ancient barrows. She might also have tried to reason with him -- if only to buy time enough to run. A duel would have simply left her dead, assuming that he had chosen to kill her outright. The more likely alternative was not pleasant to contemplate.

Alone against either, she would have stood a chance -- through experience, skill, or guile. But the two together? Cassandra smiled bitterly. Gaius always did enjoy hunting with his pets.

She drew her sword and turned her back to the wall of the empty warehouse. If need be, she could wedge the blade into the bricks and take her own head.

"Send away your lap dog, Gaius, and we'll settle this sword-to-sword."

"Now is that anyway to greet your beloved husband, Cassandra?" His voice was mocking and smooth.

Husband? She nearly spat. "You broke that vow when you killed my son, Gaius." The pain was nearly as fresh now as it had been two thousand years ago when she held the bloodied, dark haired youth in her arms as he died. For the sake of her home and people she could have lived with his coarseness, his absurd posturing and restrictions, if not for his fatal antipathy towards Gwynned.

"Your son?" Gaius laughed. "No spawn from _your_ barren womb, witch." He snapped his fingers twice and his companion circled towards her, saber raised.

Cassandra brushed the taunt away. That truth no longer held power over her. "Two-on-one is hardly an honorable challenge, Roman," she said, angling away from the wall slightly and backing towards the mouth of the alley where she'd parked her car earlier in the evening. In a short sprint, she might out run them. The pavement was somewhat slippery, the footing uncertain, but it was possible.

"But this isn't a challenge, my dear wife," he replied, moving to the side to flank her.

She moved with him but continued to retreat, stepping cautiously to avoid breaking an ankle in one of the several pot holes she knew lay behind her. The awareness of immortal presence spiked suddenly between her eyes; dear goddess, not another one!

"Not a challenge?" A familiar voice asked from beyond her shoulder. "Looks like one from here."

Methos! What was he doing here? Last time she'd seen him, he'd been sobbing his lungs out over the headless carcass of that lumbering ox he called 'brother'. Outrage, confusion, and fear fought a brief, inconclusive battle in her breast. Was he in league with this cur? She didn't dare turn to face him but halted her retreat nonetheless.

"This doesn't concern you, stranger," Gaius warned. Light from the street lamp glittered off the edge of his raised axe. "Walk away now."

"Want me to take him for you, Gaius?" the blond asked, already moving past Cassandra.

Gaius waved one hand negligently. "Be my guest, Simon."

"Ah, the optimism of youth," Methos said cheerfully.

Bright silver flashed at the corner of her right eye, followed by a muffled thunk and a gasp.

"Simon!"

Startled, Cassandra widened her stance and looked over her shoulder. Simon stood motionless in the alley with a bone handled knife buried hilt-deep in his chest. Moments later, his sword clanked to the pavement and he toppled to the ground, dead.

"I could say something trite about age and treachery, but you probably wouldn't find it amusing," Methos said. "Especially now that you're dead."

Despite herself, Cassandra smiled.

Gaius however, was not amused. "I warned you to stay out of it," he said as he stalked forward.

Sword drawn, Methos fastidiously stepped over Simon's body and glided up the alley to stand just ahead of her, a few feet to her right. His stance was oddly -- and annoyingly -- protective.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed. Predictably, he ignored her.

"You did, and I didn't," he replied to Gaius. "Sorry to interrupt this, ah, domestic squabble, but I have pressing matters to discuss with your -- wife." The corner of his mouth twitched.

Bastard!

"We're busy," her ex-husband snapped, moving swiftly to engage Methos.

"Get un-busy," Methos said flatly. Dressed entirely in black, he flowed through the darkness with deadly purpose and the sensual grace of a cobra poised to strike, a fluidity of movement that no modern man could duplicate. "I have no desire to fight you, Gaius Lucius Maro. Allow us both to leave and you and I will have no quarrel."

"How do you know me?" her ex-husband raised the axe. "You have one choice, stranger. Leave and live. Or stay and die."

"Sooo predictable," Methos said, then struck.

Posturing macho fools! Cassandra stepped back out of range and gritted her teeth. Fighting over her, as if they were two hungry -- mangy -- hounds and she was a juicy bone!

On the other hand, she'd been avoiding Gaius for centuries; she certainly wouldn't miss his company were Methos to take his head. Similarly were Methos to die here, she could easily slip away from Gaius while he was flayed alive by Methos' ancient quickening. She'd spared the viper once, at Duncan's request; that offer had expired. Of course, Methos' death would leave unanswered the question of why he had sought her out. Intuition hinted at a more dire reason than a personal vendetta.

Near the center of the alley, the two men traded vicious blows, sparks skittering from their blades and showering the broken pavement. Gaius had both reach and weight on his opponent, but Methos was shockingly fast and knew well how to best fight sword to axe.

"We can still end this now and walk away," Methos said reasonably between a flurry of thrusts and parries.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. The reality of death-on-a-horse preaching non-violence was too absurd to be believed.

"We'll end this over your headless body!" Gaius shouted, then swung.

But Methos was already ducking beneath the swing. "Or yours," he said, then thrust his sword through Gaius' belly.

The axe dropped from Gaius' fingers and he fell heavily to his knees when Methos sharply twisted, then withdrew his sword.

"You bastard," he gasped.

"Say goodnight, Gaius," Methos said. And then astounded Cassandra by letting fly with a kick that snapped the Roman's neck, instead of with a decapitating sword stroke.

Moments later, Methos had sheathed his sword and was struggling to drag Gaius' body across the alley towards a dumpster. "Bloody hell," he said. "This guy weighs a ton!"

"What are you doing, Methos?" Cassandra asked, stalking towards him.

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing? Disposing of the body."

"That's not what I meant." You ass. "Why didn't you take his head?"

"What, and have you take mine ten seconds later? Do I have 'idiot' tattooed across my forehead?" He looked at her incredulously. "Now come on, a little help here would be appreciated."

Cassandra glared at him, then grabbed one limp, meaty arm and tugged. Together, they managed to heft Gaius' body over the lip of the dumpster and into the trash below.

"Got a dagger?" he asked.

"Yes."

"May I _have_ it?"

She narrowed her eyes. Exactly what was his game? Despite Duncan's assurances, she was skeptical that even after three thousand years, a predator such as Methos could change its metaphorical spots.

"Do you _really_ care about this oversized lout or would you rather just get the hell out of here?"

"Fine," she said abruptly and handed over the knife. Methos leaned far over the edge of the bin and thrust it between Gaius' ribs with obvious relish.

"Good. Let's get the other one."

"Methos. Again, why are you here?"

"Later," he said, grunting with the effort of lifting Simon's corpse. "I'll tell you after we dispose of your charming spouse and his immortal Chia pet."

The second body was easier to heave into the bin than the first. Cassandra blinked in surprise when Methos drew a silenced pistol and shot them each between the eyes. Twice.

"Isn't that a bit of overkill?"

"I want my dagger back," he explained, yanking it from Simon's chest. He pulled hers free as well and presented the gory blade with mock gallantry.

"Thanks so much."

"Everybody's a critic." He closed the metal lid of the dumpster, said, "Let's go," and set off down the alleyway towards the street without a backwards glance.

Infuriating bastard! It was so typically _him_ \-- wasn't it? -- to show up, take over, and then leave, without so much as a word of explanation. As if she had been waiting helplessly for him to arrive and save her. As if she was now supposed to just follow him without question. As if she really cared what he had to say. Unfortunately, there was also only one way back to her car. Cassandra sheathed her sword and dagger and started after him.

"So, what is all this about, Methos? You obviously tracked me down for a reason."

"God knows I wouldn't be caught dead in Indianapolis otherwise," he replied. "Where are you going?"

At the corner, she had turned right, rather than left which was obviously the direction he had in mind. "To my car, you idiot."

"Don't bother," he said. "It's been towed."

"What!" When it rained, it invariably poured. Her warehouse had been burgled. She'd run into Gaius. Then Methos. And now this. "Did you have my car towed, Methos?"

"Hey!" he said, holding his hands up. "Not my fault. Blame lover-boy back there in the trash bin. He had it towed over an hour ago."

"And you did nothing to stop him?"

"Excuse me? Did I miss something? Am I getting _paid_ to keep track of your personal possessions as well as your erstwhile spouses?"

Damnit all! Cassandra nearly stamped her foot. How long had Gaius been stalking her? How long had _Methos_ been stalking her, for that matter?

"Well," he said, "what are we waiting for? Let's get going."

She was thoroughly sick of his mystery. Hands on hips, she said, "No further, Methos. Not until you explain to me what this is all about."

He looked back over his shoulder briefly and his eyes widened. They both felt the tingle of reawakening immortality.

"I save your life and now you want to be difficult about it--?"

"I'm waiting." She crossed her arms. With that belly-wound, it would be a while before Gaius revived fully anyway.

"--Well then _fine_. I'll say it all in one word of three syllables, Cassandra: Ah-ri-man."

"Ahriman?" The back of her neck prickled and she felt as if an icy fist had plunged through her chest. The Prophecy! "But it's too soon!"

"Tell that to MacLeod. He always was a precocious child," Methos said. "_Now_ can we go?"

She took a single step towards him, but then reality took a sudden twist to the left, the veil between the Worlds thinned, and her capricious Sight unfolded into clear Vision--

_...Distraught, the Champion kneels beside his slain child, offering his bloody sword to Death, who in turn replies, "Absolutely not."_

_Temptation lies naked, splayed across the bed clothes, artfully, erotically, entwined with Lust, Envy, Might-Be, and Might-Have-Been. Moist lips parted, it beckons._

_Red-eyed Chaos openly stalks the streets clothed in the forms of the restless dead. He fans the smoldering coals of discord and discontent, igniting the rage and hatreds that fester in shallow graves beneath the eroding crust of civilization..._

\--"Cassandra! We have to go. Now!"

The cascade of images ceased when Methos touched her arm.

"Where is he now?" she demanded, pulling away; she'd had enough of his touch three thousand years ago. "Where is the Champion?"

"Holy ground. Malaysia. Come _on_!"

Cassandra rubbed her temples to clear her head then quickly followed him down the deserted street to his car.

"A _Volvo?_" she blurted. Somehow, she'd expected something a bit less -- suburban.

"Yes. A Volvo." He glared at her over the roof of the car. "It's a rental. Boxy but safe. Now will you get in?"

Cassandra bristled but got in the car anyway. It wasn't as if she had much of a choice after all. Which was worse: the devil you knew, or the devil you'd known first?

She settled the sword harness more comfortably against the seat and asked, "How long ago did all this happen?" It was often difficult to establish precise time in a Vision.

"Eight days." He thrust the key into the ignition and started the car.

"That long?" she said sharply, and frowned. Ahriman had returned nearly a decade earlier than she'd expected. Methos had allowed the unprepared Champion, her beloved solstice child, to be weakened, demoralized. And now Chaos walked abroad, unrestrained.

"I've been a bit busy," he snapped. "What with the funeral and getting Mac to holy ground, and all. Not to mention the fact that you didn't exactly leave a forwarding address."

She decided to lavish her foul, unreasonable mood on its most worthy recipient. "But _Ahriman_, Methos! You were there, with Duncan. And you _knew_. I _told_ you! You could have prevented young Richard's death." Duncan had claimed Methos as a friend, passionately defended him, and yet when needed most, where was Methos then?

"You made that prophecy over three thousand years ago, Cassandra," he protested. "Do you have any idea how many prophecies I've heard in the past five millennia?"

"And you conveniently forgot the one that mattered most."

"Oh, for the love of--"

"How does it feel, Methos? To fail those whom you profess to love. To see those you care about destroyed?"

"And why didn't _you_ see this coming, Cassandra? After all, you're the Seer, not I."

"I'm not infallible!" she said, stung.

"Well neither am I!"

They glared at one another in silence. Finally, Cassandra turned away and breathed deeply, allowing her anger to subside. Their enmity would only further serve the interests of Chaos.

"All that can be done now is to distract Ahriman, prevent him from gaining too much power, from wreaking too much havoc in Duncan's absence," she said more calmly.

"How?" Methos asked.

"Well, _Dr. Pierson_. I hope you've kept up with your Old Persian and Assyrian," she said. "Our first stop is the Near Eastern Archives at the British Museum." The first set of texts they needed were in London, sixteen clay tablets and one stone plinth.

"_Our_ first stop?"

"From there, we'll go to Cairo for the rest of the documents and to gather the materials we need to thwart Ahriman's earthly agenda and give the Champion time to heal."

"Great. Just great." Methos shook his head. "I can't wait."

"The feeling is quite mutual, Methos," she replied. The sarcastic bastard was far from her first choice of companion for this task, but at least he was literate. "I'd just as soon take your head as work with you."

"You're welcome to try."

"Don't tempt me."

In response, he jammed the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and muttered, "Shit."

"What?" A powerful wave of immortal presence washed over them. She turned to see Gaius and Simon pelting down the street after the car.

"Faster, you fool!"

"Let me get out of second gear, for Christ's sake!"

Lamp light flickered off something metallic in Gaius' hand.

"Get down!" she shouted, moments before the back window exploded in a shower of glass.

"Bloody hell!"

"I hope you purchased the collision-damage waiver."

Methos' pained groan was her sweet reward.

Cassandra smiled. The path ahead was difficult and uncertain, especially in the company of an old enemy. But it was comforting to know that eventually, even the worst of days could improve.

_Finis._


End file.
